He's Music To Beneficiaries' Ears Cover Story

Al Sickeler of Center Valley tried to give away four Smith Corona typewriters but no one was interested.

Sickeler began to realize that typewriters have been made obsolete by the personal computer.

"My generation has slipped past me so fast," Sickeler said.

Operating "100 percent for charity," Sickeler repairs things like typewriters -- mostly working on old stereo systems these days.

Sickeler buys the equipment at Jerry Schwenk's flea market in Coopersburg markets and at garage sales, and receives some through donations. He fixes it up and then gives them to area nursing homes and charitable organizations. During the few months Sickeler has been working on the project, he has given stereo systems to Devon House, Valley Manor in Coopersburg and the Boy's Club of Bethlehem.

Sickeler purchases speakers and 8-track tape machines for less than ten dollars per system.

Then he takes the units home to his workshop where he breathes new life into the dusty, burned-out machinery.

When the stereos come to Sickeler, they usually need a tune-up -- a replaced wire or a cleaning. If the pieces need further surgery, Sickeler takes more time to repair them.

The shallow, garage-like room where he works contains an historical journey through technological time, running from an RCA reel to reel tape machine, circa 1940, to a foreign-manufactured console made only of plastic and paint.

Stacks of speakers in every available size occupy the center of the room. To the left, Sickeler's assistant manager, Cinder, a cat, takes her afternoon nap in a semi-circular chair. To the right, shelves of long-playing records, often seen as dinosaurs themselves, document a lifetime of memories for Sickeler.

One patriotic memory stands out for him. In 1944, during World War II, Sickeler was assigned to inspect radio stations and equipment in France.

One evening, as the day drew to an end, Sickeler said, an all-French band lined up on the side of the street and began to play "Stars and Stripes Forever."

"I'm telling you, I cried," he said. "That was the first thing I had seen (that was) American for a while."

Although he's not an electronics wizard, Sickeler tinkers with the radio equipment, checking connections and cleaning the parts.

Sickeler worked as an electrical engineer in sales and manufacturing for 22 years with different companies across Pennsylvania. He moved to the region after accepting a job with Bethlehem Steel and, eventually, retired in 1969.

Soon after, he came out of retirement and created his own business. Sickeler founded an energy conservation and consulting engineering firm. Currently retired, his life is now focused on caring for his wife, Peggy, and his restoration projects.

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Sickeler is from Sewickley, in Allegheny County. He toured the bar circuit playing drums in 1932 and 1933. Many of the small clubs, Sickeler said, exposed him to various facets of life.

"I remember having to step over a drunk to get back to the grill room," Sickeler said.

He also played with other GIs in Europe.

Sickeler no longer performs publicly, although he can be found tapping a drum board in his garage on occasion.

Being involved in music led to an evening with a big band legend. During the trip to France, Sickeler and his friends met Glenn Miller.

"(Miller) knew some of the guys I played with," Sickeler said.

That night, Miller's plane, a single-engine Royal Air Force bomber, crashed under mysterious circumstances, killing all passengers on board. Sickeler said the GIs didn't find out about the incident until weeks later.

These days, Sickeler has more than just stories to share.

Sickeler is working on a stereo with a "live mike," one that allows an outside source of audio to be heard through the speakers as if it were on the air. He's trying to install live mikes in other systems not currently equipped with them.

The results of his restoration efforts have been favorable. Residents of Valley Manor, a retirement home for the elderly, have been grateful for Sickeler's donation, according to activities director Jill Unger.

"We had a really dilapidated old system," Unger said.

"The residents are just going crazy with it," she said. They participate in daily sing-alongs and individual use as well, she said.

A former antique shop owner, Sickeler's wife worked out of their home until she developed cataracts. Sickeler took over the space for his workshop once he began buying the equipment.

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"Listen to this arrangement," Sickeler said, tapping his foot to the strains of Billy Butterfield.

A collection of records from the 1930s, '40s and '50s, almost 1,000 8-track cassettes, and stacks of stereos, speakers and turntables are all waiting in Sickeler's garage to find a more permanent home.

In an effort to achieve that goal, Sickeler has started taking requests.

"One of the residents asked him if he had any spiritual music," Unger said.

Sickeler stopped by a few days later with an armload of recordings.

He said choosing music to give to the various organizations with the system is one of the most difficult parts of the job.

"I'll just pick out five or 10 of each and give them each a conglomerate," Sickeler said.

Sickeler refused to say where he'll send his next batch of music and stereos, not wanting to make promises and then disappoint anyone.

Sickeler said he undertook his stereo project because he wanted to satisfy a basic human need to be nurtured and cared for. The project, he said, makes him "feel good."